


Pavlovian Response

by SpecialHell



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Declarations Of Love, Idiots in Love, Implied Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-19 06:46:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20652917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpecialHell/pseuds/SpecialHell
Summary: *waves hands vaguely in the direction of the fic*





	Pavlovian Response

It had been happening for a few months now. Every time they went on a mission. Sam wasn’t exactly _complaining_, he was just… concerned. Sam Wilson was a big believer in reciprocation, and that was what threw up the red flags.

This is how it went.

Sam and Bucky would make it home - alive, and usually uninjured - from a mission. Bucky would be quiet the whole way home. His leg would jiggle sometimes, if it’d been a particularly stressful job. Sam always dozed a little on the ride, and Bucky never complained if Sam fell asleep on his shoulder. It was when they got inside their shared apartment that things changed. Bucky got handsy. He’d back Sam up against the nearest flat surface, kissing everywhere but his face. Sometimes it was his hands, sometimes his mouth, but the result was always the same. As soon as Sam fell apart under his attentions, Bucky would leave. He didn’t run. Not exactly. He would look at Sam, give himself a little internal nod, and then turn and walk away to his room. The first few times, Sam had tried to go after him, but Bucky wouldn’t answer the knocking on his door. Sam figured it was just the adrenaline of the fight, and eventually learned to shrug it off. He’d go and make or order dinner, and Bucky would emerge in time to eat - showered and changed into comfortable lounging clothes. They’d eat their meal together, maybe watch a movie, and then Bucky would bid Sam goodnight.

They never talked about it. That was something Sam found hard, but it seemed clear that Bucky didn’t want to acknowledge it, and Sam wasn’t going to force him. At least, that was how he felt at first. Trouble was now - some ten weeks later - Sam was getting just as jittery as Bucky post-mission. If Bucky noticed, he didn’t say anything. It wasn’t anticipation, exactly. Sam never stopped Bucky when they got home, but the encounters were becoming less satisfying. Sam knew why. The more their working partnership had grown into a real friendship, the worse Sam felt for letting it continue this way.

This is what led them here. The mission was over, and Bucky - bouncing knee and all - was sitting next to Sam on the flight home. Taking a deep breath, Sam prepared himself. This would either go irrevocably wrong, or it was the start of something good. Something they both deserved. Reaching over, Sam took Bucky’s flesh hand on his own, twining their fingers together and giving a soft, experimental squeeze. His heart stopped for a second as he flicked his gaze up to Bucky’s face. Bucky was looking down at their joined hands, his brows pulled together in something that wasn’t quite confusion. His knee had stopped bouncing. Sam was heartened that Bucky wasn’t angry or pulling away, and he risked shifting closer. Without a word, Sam closed his eyes and leaned against Bucky’s shoulder. He heard a shaky exhale beside him before he felt Bucky’s hand give his a gentle squeeze in return.

  
Bucky was quiet when they got home. They’d had to separate to get into the apartment, but as soon as the door was locked, Sam took Bucky’s hand again. He led them to the couch and sat down, turning his body towards Bucky, hands still linked. 

“Are you ok?” Sam asked. It was the first thing either of them had said in hours. Bucky’s pinched expression was focussed once again on their hands, but he wasn’t letting go.

“I wanted you to stay,” Bucky whispered. Sam didn’t reply, not quite sure what Bucky was trying to say. When Bucky finally looked at Sam, his eyes were sad. “I’m tired of losing people, and… when I realised what I was feeling for you…” Bucky swallowed, and Sam held his breath. “I hoped, maybe, you’d fight harder. To stay.”

Sam couldn’t help it. He laughed. A clean, joyous sound, that Bucky couldn’t resist quirking a lip at.

“Are you telling me, all this time, you’ve been trying to _train me_ into staying alive, with _orgasms_?”

“I guess so,” Bucky looked bashful now.

“And it didn’t cross your mind at any point that I might want to return the favour?”

Bucky shrugged.

Sam fell back into the couch in another fit of laughter, his hand still anchored tightly to Bucky’s.

“Man, I love you, but you’re not the brightest.” 

When Sam opened his eyes, the shy smile Bucky was wearing almost tore his heart out.

“You love me?”

“Yeah, dummy. You think I’ve been cooking you dinner, complimenting your hair, and getting up at dumb-fuck-o’clock to come running with you for some other reason?” Bucky’s smile grew, and Sam suddenly became shy. “I didn’t figure you felt the same. I mean, I know…” Sam waved his free hand towards the hallway in a vague gesture of _‘all that stuff’_ “But I thought it was just adrenaline. A ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ kinda deal. You never let me touch you back, so…”

Sam was frowning now, and Bucky quickly decided that just wouldn’t do.

“Hey,” Bucky stroked the side Sam’s neck with his vibranium hand. Sam met his eyes, still unsure. “I love you, ok? I’m bad at expressing things. I used to be smooth, about eighty years ago.” That earned a crooked smile from Sam, and Bucky shifted his body closer. “I didn’t ever think I’d get another chance at this kind of happy. I’m sorry for doing this wrong.”

“Don’t apologise,” Sam whispered, pulling their heads together. “Just kiss me.”  
  


That was something Bucky was more than happy to do.


End file.
